When Clayton had told Marshall that they would stay in the fae realm, it had been an act of desperation, not something he actually wanted to do. But if what Naerith and Elena had just told him was true, he wasn’t entirely certain he wanted to go back to the Real.
Though if they did stay, Mal might have a difficult time with the other nightmares. Would they all instinctively run in terror if they saw him? Would Mal be compelled to eat them?
It became a problem for another day when Mal returned in a cloud of black vapor. His arrival was heralded by an intensity to the shadows around them as darkness coalesced into something substantial and vaguely humanoid in shape. Clayton bit his lip and tried not to think about Mal fucking him in this form. He wouldn’t do it. He wouldn’t.
Just in case, Clayton pinched his arm incredibly hard to give himself a fighting chance to stop the thought from forming.
He mostly succeeded, but it was touch-and-go when he saw a vaguely tentacle-shaped portion of the darkness shift into an arm.
How much of Mal’s usual form was a construct simply made to get around easier in the Real? What would he look like if he had no constraints?
It was odd how much it didn’t matter to Clayton or his dick. He was pretty certain he’d be happy getting fucked by Mal in any form he chose.
His mouth was dry, and his voice cracked as he asked, “What did you find?”
Mal dipped his head and kissed Clayton hard on the mouth and then gently on the nose, laughing as Clayton sputtered incoherently from embarrassment.
He hooked an arm around Clayton’s neck and pulled him into his side before saying, “This dimension is unstable. We should have arrived right next to the boat, but instead, we ended up here. I think the terrain keeps changing. While I was gone, the way back here had changed, so it took me longer to get to you.” Mal frowned, and Clayton had the feeling his monster was taking it personally.
“Did you find the boat?” Clayton had to fight to stay on topic because Mal—his mate—smelled intoxicating, and at such a close distance, it made it hard for him to think.
Mal nodded. “Yes, but it probably won’t be in the same place if I try to lead you there. This place feels alive. I think it’s working against us. I’d portal us again, but something tells me that we’d end up back here, or somewhere worse. I saw things you’re better off not seeing.”
“What about the children? Did you see them?”
Mal gave a snort of laughter. “They’re fine. The shield is still holding strong, and our kids are pelting anyone who comes close with Grampy’s food. They’ll be safe until we can get to them. I guess Marshall isn’t completely useless after all.”
Unlike Clayton. Mal hadn’t said it, but Clayton couldn’t help but feel like he should have.
“What do you think we should do?” Clayton had no doubt that Mal already had a plan. He exuded competence equally on par with his aura of asshattery.
“Follow me, do what I say, and stay close.”
Yesterday, Clayton would have argued with Mal, but now everything had changed, so he nodded. “Lead the way, Mal. Let’s get our children back.”
It may have been Clayton’s imagination, but it seemed like Mal’s night-black eyes softened, transforming him from an unfeeling, devil-may-care asshole into a partner. Someone who actually gave a shit about Clayton and his needs.
Mal nodded and said, “Let’s go get our kids.”
Chapter
Twenty-Seven
MAL
“Not that I’m complaining, but I’m a little surprised you didn’t simply kill everyone and come back to tell us you’d sorted the problem yourself,” Clayton joked nervously as he followed Mal through the cavern.
Clayton talked a lot when he was nervous, Mal noted. It was cute. He also got clingy, but that was new for Mal. Up until the present, nervous Clayton was pointy and loud, like a feral cat who’d had to make itself seem far larger than it was to protect itself for far too long.
Clayton had twined his fingers with Mal’s in a death grip, and his other hand was clutched in the back of Mal’s jacket as he continued to chatter to fill the void. As Mal listened, he unconsciously changed the tough leather of his jacket to something more forgiving to anxious fingers.
The warmth of Clayton’s hand twined with Mal’s was grounding and affected him like someone was giving backscratches to his soul.
If something like Mal could have one of those.
Mal wanted to put Clayton on like a backpack, but he was too big to do it unless Mal made himself taller, and that wouldn’t work in the realm they were currently in. He needed to stay as physically versatile as possible to deal with the ever-shifting terrain, so he couldn’t be too large.
It made sense now why he’d nearly discorporated after getting dragged to the fae realm. Astraea had yanked all of them away from their trajectory to the pocket dimension the boat was in and forced Mal to foot the bill for their original trip, the course correction, and the journey to the fae realm.
